There was no window, and only the one door that
opened into the courtyard. An old pig, evidently more friendly to
the foreigners than her masters, came waddling toward them
followed by her squealing little brood, and flopping down into
the mud in the doorway lay there uttering grunts of content.
The evil smells of the room, the stench from the pigs, and the
still more dreadful odors wafted from the queer food cooking on
the range, made the young traveler's unaccustomed senses revolt.
He had a half notion that the two older men were putting up a
joke on him.
"I suppose you thought it wise to give me a strong dose of all
this at the start?" he inquired humorously, holding his nose and
glancing from the pigs at the door to the crawlers on the wall.
"A strong dose!" laughed Mr. Ritchie. "Not a bit of it, young
man. Wait till you've had some experience of the luxuries of
Formosan inns. You'll be calling this the Queen's Hotel, before
you've been here long!"
And so indeed it proved later, for George Mackay had yet much to
learn of the true character of Chinese inns.
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